The Kids Aren't Alright
by julian bb
Summary: Nathan knows sleeping around with his girlfriend's best friend isn't a smart move. Brooke knows that creeping around with Nathan is bad for her karma. And Rachel and Clay know that the whole affair is gonna blow up in their faces. But that doesn't mean they're gonna stop. BN/RO
1. Departure of Summer

**Disclaimer: I don't own shit.**

**AN: Yep. I'm back. It's taken forever, I know. I found a story I started and deleted (Ain't No Rest For The Wicked), and decided to give it a reboot. I don't even really know what this is yet. I've been listening to a lot of Fall Out Boy and reading some of my old stuff. Call me nostalgic, but I miss the good ol' days when the gang were teenagers. (Fuck, maybe _I_ miss when _I_ was a teenager.)**

**Also, credit and shout out to theloganecholls on tumblr who's made some awesome edits for this fic and for RoA. Much love, dude.**

**The Kids Aren't Alright**

Departure of Summer

* * *

_Blessed be the boys time can't capture_  
_On film or between the sheets_  
_I always fall from your window to the pitch black streets_

**-Fall Out Boy, "The Kids Aren't Alright"**

* * *

It's 5 a.m. on a warm summer morning when Nathan Scott jumps out of the second floor window and onto a large tree.

He scales down and lands on the dewy grass in under fifteen seconds flat; a feat made even more impressive by the fact that he's only wearing a pair of CK boxer briefs. His shorts, hoody and Jordans drop out of the window just as his feet hit the ground. He slides the garments on as he moves away from the house and jogs down to the curb.

It's not the first time he's had to flee Brooke Davis' bedroom in a hurry.

The beat-up Dodge Ram pick-up pulls up by the curb and he jumps in without exchanging a word.

"I'm hungry." Nathan declares, propping his feet up on the dashboard. "Let's go hit the 7-Eleven or something."

Clay Evans scoffs, "The fuck were you doin' outside Brooke Davis' house at 5 in the morning, Scott?" He laughs, clearly amused by the situation. "Oh, man, you're in such deep shit right now, and you don't even know it."

Nathan keeps his eyes on the road. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it, Evs."

"Oh, I'm not worried." Clay laughs again, pulling into the 7-Eleven parking lot. "But I wanna know the story. C'mon - you're dumb, but you ain't stupid. You had to know I was gonna ask."

The mini-mart is deserted at this hour and the clerk is too stoned to pay attention to them. They walk through the familiar aisles at a brisk pace and grab their breakfasts in comfortable silence. Their usual morning combo - breakfast burritos, liters of chocolate milk and a few doughnuts - and they're good to go.

"It's nothin'," Nathan mutters between bites of his burrito.

They're sitting in the bed of the truck, eating as the sun comes out. This is their routine every morning before school, but it's the last day of summer break and they're up early anyways so fuck it.

"How long have we been best friends," Clay says, amused by the whole situation.

Clay and Nathan have been next door neighbors for as long as they can remember. No matter what trouble Nathan got into, Clay was always right by his side. And every time Clay cooked up another cockamamie scheme, Nathan was right there with him.

For better or worse, the pair of best friends know each other way too well.

"Sad as it is, I know what your 'I-just-got-laid' hair looks like. And I recognize a Walk of Shame anywhere. You slept with Brooke Davis?" He shakes his head, "Pey's gonna kill you."

Nathan huffs, "Please. Peyton's not coming back to town 'til tonight. 'Sides, we're on a break."

"Okay, _Ross_. Whatever you say." Clay's tone is laced with sarcasm, "How long has this been going on? Just tonight?"

The way Nathan not-so-subtly averts his gaze answers the question for Clay.

Another smirk tugs on the lips of the chestnut-haired football player. "Told ya: you are in deep shit."

**-xx-**

Rachel Gatina parks her Denali in front of the house and leans her chair back. She turns up the volume of the radio and closes her eyes, letting the music drown out her thoughts.

It is way too fucking early to be out and about.

Five minutes later, Brooke Davis walks out of her house with a gym bag hanging off her shoulder. She jumps into the front seat of the car and buckles up. "Drive." she says quietly, propping her flip-flops on the dashboard.

Rachel pulls out and they drive in silence for a few blocks. "Well..." she demands impatiently. "I'm hoping you have a damn good reason for pulling me out of bed at 6 a.m. on the last Sunday of summer."

When Brooke says nothing, she adds, "I passed up on some morning sex for this."

The brunette smiles. "O. finally back from Illinois?"

Owen Morello is the QB 1 for the Duke Blue Devils and Rachel's (kind of) boyfriend. The redhead's "never been into labels", as she so quaintly put it on the rare occasions Owen bothered to bring the subject up. He'd gone back home to Chicago for the last few weeks of the summer to check in with his mother and siblings. Rachel had been..._surly_ since his departure.

Rachel tries (and fails) to suppress a smile at the mention of the quarterback. "Don't change the subject, slut. Spill it."

Brooke sighs, "My parents showed up at the ass-crack of dawn. Vicky's on the warpath again, I don't want to get caught in the crossfire. It seems Dad got..._extracurricular_ with the new secretary." She waves a hand dismissively, as if to say 'business as usual'. "Long story short, Nathan came over last night and I guess we fell asleep, so he had to shag-ass outta there."

The redhead raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow, "What ever happened to 'I'm done screwing Nathan'?"

"I shouldn't have had that tequila last night. Killed whatever little judgment I had left in me."

"Right." Rachel rolls her eyes, knowing full-well that two shots and a few beer chasers did virtually nothing to Brooke. She wouldn't have left her at the party otherwise. "How long is this gonna go on for? I mean, it was all fun and games when Peyt-whore was gone. You know the cat's away, and the mice will fuck - whatever. But she's coming back. Tonight, right?"

Brooke rolls her eyes, "Probably." She says, "Don't talk about her like that. She's my best friend."

"No, _I'm_ your best friend." The redhead corrects her, "She's just known you longer than I have. That's all."

The brunette smiles, dimples full-blown. "Just drive. I can crash downstairs while you and O. do your thing."

"You're always welcome, whore, you know that," she says. "So. Last night of summer. We hitting the beach party tonight?"

Brooke shrugs, "Where else would we be?"

"You know it's at Nathan's house, right?"

The silence answers the question and the redhead just laughs. She knows better than to push B. to talk about this.

**-xx-**

The dock in front of the Scott beach house is lined with wasted teenagers. The new Kanye song is blasting from the speakers inside the house and reverberating into the night.

Brooke and Rachel arrive in Owen's pimped out Escalade. Thanks to the Blue Devils' alumni players with car dealerships, the star QB always had killer wheels available to him. "Pretty hot for a high school party," Owen throws an arm around the redhead's shoulders and looks around. "Where's the keg at?"

"Let's go find out, babes," Rachel cuts her eyes towards the brunette. "You good, B.?"

Brooke nods, "Yeah. Just hit me up when it's time to bail, okay? I can't get stranded here tonight."

"Why not?" The redhead calls out over her shoulder, "I'm sure Nathan has a bed for you."

Brooke rolls her eyes and flips her off. "Such a cunt sometimes." She mutters to herself.

**-xx-**

The guys from the team are all crowded in the den. Nathan and Clay are hustling everyone at the pool table.

Clay groans, pumping a fist in the air triumphantly. "Yeah! Sunk it, baby!" He grins as he bumps shoulders with Nathan. "Pay up, _bitches_!" Vegas and Fede pull out their wallets and surrender a couple of twenties each.

Brooke kinks her eyebrows as she watches them brag all around. It takes her a few minutes to notice Peyton standing in the background. The curly-haired blonde stands behind Nathan, holding his beer while the fingers of her free hand slide around one of his belt loops. Something about the image makes Brooke uneasy. A lump forms in the back of her throat and she struggles to swallow it down. She needs a drink. _Now_.

The trip with her dad must've been really good if Peyton is actually playing girlfriend tonight - normally she'd be speeding off in her Comet after throwing a fit by now.

"P. Sawyer!" The brunette greets her friend with an obligatory hug and dimpled smile. "I thought you were gonna call me when you got in."

Peyton shrugs, "Got busy." She says dismissively, shaking the brunette off.

Nathan pops up next to her then. "Thanks for the beer, babe." He says, dropping an kiss on her cheek. "'Sup," he greets the brunette with a jut of his chin.

Brooke narrows her eyes at him for a second before focusing on Peyton once more. "How long have you guys been here?"

Before either of them can answer, Clay drapes an arm across Nathan's chest and howls, "We are fuckin' killin' 'em tonight, bro!" He's slurring a bit, already drunk. He grins when he spots the brunette, "Brookie. You've graced us with your presence!"

"Evans." Brooke scrunches up her nose, eyeing him with curiosity. "You guys are cleaning up tonight, huh?"

"It's what we do." Clay raises an eyebrow, "You know, boys and their toys."

"Yeah? How about you rack 'em up," Brooke smirks mockingly, "And I'll show you what girls do."

Tim oohs and aahs like a giddy idiot. "What's the bet, Brooke?"

"Oh, I like it all in," the brunette says suggestively.

Nathan smirks, "You wanna play us for everything we've made tonight?"

"What's the matter," a devilish smile brings out her dimples, "You afraid, Scott?"

The way she's licking her lips is driving Nathan nuts, and he wants to grab a handful of those chocolate locks and have his way with her right there, right now. He glares, the little bitch is taunting him. "Bring it, Davis. Who're you playing with?"

"Oh, I can take you both on by myself. I'll even let you break."

Clay snorts, "It's so fuckin' on right now."

The game is pretty close right up to the last shots. Despite being wasted, their game is most definitely not all talk. Still, Brooke holds her own against them easily enough.

Nathan smirks, "Yeah, you're done, sweetheart." He walks around the table and lines up. "Corner pocket. Easy shot."

The basketball team lets out a collective groan of disappointment when Nathan scratches.

"Fuck, Nate," Clay groans in frustration. "You _had_ that!"

Brooke moves around him and leans right in front him for her final shot. Her ass rubs against his crotch and that's enough to get him hard. "_Fuck_," he mutters through clenched teeth.

She sinks last three balls in one impressive shot. "Looks like you bitches are the ones that got owned now." She says coolly.

Clay slaps the roll of twenties on the pool table and Brooke tucks it neatly into her cleavage. "Thanks for the game, boys."

Bevin and a few girls from the squad clap for their captain's victory. They're passing around bottles when Kira accidentally spills some on Peyton.

"Watch it!" The blonde snaps, "God, you are all so fricking stupid when you're drinkin'!"

No one says anything. It wouldn't be a Ravens' party without a BF from the always melodramatic Peyton Sawyer.

"_Well_..." Peyton crosses her arms over her chest. "I think you owe me an apology."

"Actually, Peyton, I think you're the one who owes Kira an apology." Brooke remarks calmly. "You were kinda harsh. I mean, it's just vodka. It won't even stain."

"Yeah, it was just an accident. No harm, no foul." Pipes in Theresa.

The curly-haired blonde looks around for any kind of back-up, but appears to find none. Finally she looks at Nathan expectantly.

Nathan steps in with a snort, "You _were_ being pretty bitchy, Peyt." He says matter-of-fact before sipping his Solo cup.

"Ugh," the curly-haired blonde jumps to her feet, "Forget you, Nathan!" She shoves past him and heads outside in a huff.

Someone turns the music up and the crowd spreads out, leaving Brooke alone with Nathan and Clay.

Clay throws his head back laughing, "That's a new record. Usually she doesn't stick around that long. Looks like you're a free agent tonight, Nate," he cuts his eyes towards Brooke. "Have _fu-u-un_." He jogs outta the room to catch up with Vegas and the guys.

Brooke steps up to Nathan, "Are you shitting me right now?" She hisses, the anger in her voice palpable. "Your stupid little sidekick knows about this?"

"Relax, will you," Nathan's strong hands move up to grips her waist and pull her in closer. "Clay is cool, okay. He's my boy, he's got my back."

The brunette's hazel eyes are throwing daggers at him. "Our little arrangement isn't locker room fodder for you and your boys, Nathan. I thought you were smarter than that."

"You kicked me out the window at 5 frickin' a.m., Brooke. I needed a ride. Chill, okay. Clay won't say anything." His hands slide down to her ass, pulling her tight against him, "But he did make a good point. I'm flying solo tonight. Wanna head upstairs?"

His wet mouth is pressed against her neck, nibbling at her pulse point and sending shivers down her spine. He's grinding up against her and she can feel his hard-on through his jeans. It would be so easy to slip into an empty bedroom and let him work his magic. A few orgasms from Nathan Scott would be an ideal way to start the school year. She pushes him back, her eyes burrowing into his.

Rachel arrives at the door, arms crossed over her chest. "B., I'm bored and Owen has to drive back tonight. You coming or staying?"

Brooke shoves the raven-haired Scott off. "I'm coming." She walks off with the redhead without a glance back.

Nathan scowls and punches a wall.

_The fuck just happened..._

**-xx-**

**AN: So. This is it. Short and sweet intro. Not sure if I should continue it. Anyone interested? Tell me whatcha think, dudes... **


	2. Pleasure Entraps & Remorse Follows

**Disclaimer: I don't own shit.**

**AN: Glad to know I got some Brathan fans that wanna read this. I'm sorry I've been lazy replying to reviews. I'll get around to it soon. **

**The Kids Aren't Alright**

Pleasure Entraps &amp; Remorse Follows

* * *

_The stench of summer sex  
__And CK Eternity, oh hell yes  
__Divide me down to the smallest I can be  
__Put your, put your venom in me_

**-Fall Out Boy, "Uma Thurman"**

* * *

Clay arrives at the Scott house early and lets himself in. He strolls into the kitchen where Dan Scott is pouring fresh-brewed coffee. "Mornin', Mr. S." he greets with a grin.

"Clayton," Dan acknowledges his presence with a nod and pours the teenager a coffee in one of the to-go cups. Clay had practically grown up in this house, right alongside Nathan. Dan had always encouraged the friendship, if nothing else the boy would never be any kind competition for Nathan.

Clayton Evans shines in his own field; the star Running Back that had revived the rabid football spirit of Tree Hill and carried the Ravens all the way to the finals last season. This year, they'd be taking State and bringing home those rings.

"Mrs. S. not back yet, huh," Clay comments casually.

"What gave it away?"

Clay shrugs, "Well, she usually makes me waffles," he pockets Dan's protein bar and heads for the stairs before he can complain about it. Never let it be said that Clay doesn't know how to make himself at home. "Later, Mr. S.!" he calls out over his shoulder.

Just as Clay had predicted, Nathan is still in a dead sleep, his head buried under a pillow. He'd gotten completely shitfaced last night until he'd nearly passed out.

"Dickweed, c'mon, up and at 'em," Clay kicks the bed, startling the raven-haired Scott out of his sleep. "We're gonna be late."

"Fuck off..." Nathan mutters halfheartedly, his throat parched and sore. He blinks his swollen eyes in an attempt to adjust to the morning light, but fails miserably. The world-class hangover feels like a spike through his brain as he sits up.

Clay hands him a bottle of water and searches his drawers for the stash of Advil. "Cheers, yeah," he hands over two, but Nathan takes the bottle and swallows four.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Nathan raises an eyebrow, "What're we, girls?" He stands up and stretches his arms over his head. "Do I have time to shower?"

"Not really, but you should. You smell like a distillery."

Nathan doesn't say anything, he just jumps in the shower and dresses in a hurry, but Clay gets the distinct feeling that Brooke left him hanging last night.

**-xx-**

Brooke walks downstairs late and Rachel has already made coffee and breakfast. Despite hating early mornings, the redhead is always punctual and efficient. Never let it be said that her compulsion doesn't have its benefits.

"Any OJ left?" Brooke asks, grabbing a slice of toast.

"Yes," Rachel's already poured her a glass.

Brooke smiles, something about Mama Hen Rachel always gives her a happy feeling.

"So why is Nathan in the dog house? 'Cause I thought for sure he'd be getting some Brookie nookie last night."

Then she asks questions like that and Brooke realizes that the redhead's attention to detail can often be dangerous.

Brooke clears her throat. "I told you, I'm done with that."

"You're like the slut who cried wolf with that story." Rachel snorts.

The brunette gulps down her orange juice and stands up, "I'm gonna go change, yeah," she says. "Don't wanna be late on the first day."

Rachel sips her coffee and watches her go. She makes a mental note that she gives it a week before Brooke finds her way back to Nathan's bed again. After all, she'd been trying to quit it all summer and still no change.

It's only a matter of time until it happens again.

**-xx-**

It's fifth period and Mr. Thompson is rambling on and on about the summer reading, but Brooke's long since tuned out of this lecture. She has other things on her mind.

It has officially been 48 hours since she last slept with Nathan, and she hasn't seen him since last night. She may or may not be avoiding him today. She hasn't made up her mind about that quite yet, but that's neither here nor there. Because she is officially done screwing around with him.

This has gone on for long enough already. Sure, it was..._okay_ the first time it'd happened. There was a party and Peyton had dumped Nathan and they'd been wasted and it was supposed to be a one-time deal.

But then it wasn't.

They kept being thrown together and Peyton kept dumping Nathan for a number of inane reasons and it just...kept on happening. It was easier to pretend that it was nothing while Peyton was out of the picture. Her three-week trip with her dad had been like a hiatus, and sneaking around with Nathan hadn't seemed so wrong for a little while.

Brooke suddenly stands up. "Can I be excused?" She asks, "Bathroom. Um, girl stuff."

The teacher blushes fifty shades of red and gives her a hall pass. That excuse is like a golden ticket, always great for an easy out.

**-xx-**

The bathroom is empty and Brooke leans against the sinks, splashing some cold water on her face. She needs to get it together. She is Brooke-fucking-Davis. This kind of stuff isn't supposed to happen to her.

She's walking back to class when an arm loops around her waist and pulls her into the janitor's closet. "What the fuck?" She hisses, upset at being caught by surprise.

Nathan stands so close to her that she can feel his warm breath on her neck. "You're avoiding me."

"What the hell are you doing?" Brooke can feel her heart beating faster. They are packed tight in that tiny room, just her, the darkness and Nate.

Nathan presses his mouth to the nape of her neck. "How long are you going to keep pretending you don't wanna do this?" He whispers huskily, and he can feel her tremble under his touch. "You know you wanna, so just say yes already."

His warm hands slide under her top and work their way up her hips. Her breath hitches when he reaches her breasts. His mouth hovers over hers and he just stays there. She can't see his face in the dark, but she can feel the heat radiating from both of their bodies in the cramped space.

Who the hell is she kidding? She plants her mouth on his as she reaches to push in the lock. He's already getting her out of her skirt. Her hands move to undo his jeans and push down his boxers. He has her against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping her thighs - fuck, it feels good.

"Oh god!" Brooke moans, grabbing a handful of his hair.

Nathan groans, "Gotta keep it down, baby."

But neither of them is any good at that. If nothing else, the past three weeks had given them a sense of freedom that allowed them to get sloppy - no more keeping quiet for quickies in the back of his car or in closets. They'd both gotten used to the privacy of bedrooms and the comforts of a bed.

So she bites down on his shoulder and he bites down on her neck and that's how they finish, collapsing against one another.

They scramble for their clothes in silence; they've never done it at school before and something about it feels slightly cheap.

"I haven't made up with Peyton yet," Nathan says as he zips up. "Wanna come over tonight?"

Brooke avoids his gaze, those blue eyes of his can have a hypnotizing effect when they're undressing her. "I gotta go."

Nathan watches her run out as he buttons up his shirt. He's not really sure what the fuck's up with her lately. She's been acting weird for the past few days, nearly blew a gasket when he slept over the over day, and she'd passed on a hook-up last night. That _never_ happens.

He checks his watch - "_Fuck_." If he's late for the first official practice of the season, Whitey's gonna have his ass.

**-xx-**

For the first time, Brooke can feel the situation slipping from her hands. She keeps saying to herself that she's gonna stop. By now, the last eight times she's hooked up with Nathan have been "the last time". Her resolve is turning out to be pretty fucking non-existent. She arrives at her locker and finds Rachel waiting there, holding her book-bag.

"You missed the end of fifth period." The redhead announces, "Don't worry, I covered for you."

"Thanks. I must've lost track of time."

Rachel raises an eyebrow. _So this is how we're going to play this?_, she thinks. "Yeah. I'm _sure_ you did."

Brooke plasters on a smile, slinging her bag over shoulder. "Let's go. First practice of the year."

Rachel shakes her head, "You are such a shitty liar." She says, "At least when you're lying to me." She knows this fling with Nathan has gotten way too complicated for her best friend. Because despite being a cutthroat bitch sometimes, at her core, Brooke is loyal to her people. And crossing the line with Peyt-whore's sometimes-boyfriend appears to finally be taking it's toll on the brunette's conscience, which is probably why she's been trying to cut Nathan off for a few weeks now.

Despite trying hard not to, Rachel knows Brooke's gotten attached to Nathan. It's subtle, but it's there. You just have to be paying attention to notice it. Brooke's enjoyed playing "girlfriend" with Nathan during the summer. And Nathan lives for baiting Peyton into another fight so she'll kick him to the curb and straight into Brooke's bed.

"What're you on about?" Brooke asks, already knowing the answer. Rachel has some sort of natural Brooke-BS detector, like a sixth sense. The whore is like fucking Nostradamus sometimes.

"You smell like him. The stench of CK Eternity is overwhelming me." Rachel shrugs, "I'm part hound. You can't fool the nose, B."

Brooke lets out a groan, "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you." Rachel replies matter-of-fact.

"This is so fucked up." Brooke presses on, "I can't keep doing this to Peyton."

"You know what's fucked up? _Peyton_. She's a self-righteous bitch that's set on being miserable and dragging us all down with her." Rachel crosses her arms over her chest, "She treats you like crap and, out of some screwed up sense of loyalty, you let her."

Brooke rolls her eyes, "She is my friend and I've been screwing around with her boyfriend for months now. Can't you just give me a minute to feel bad about that. _Jesus!_"

"Why should you? That pathetic excuse of a relationship she's got going on with Nathan is bound to end up in some weird, Jerry Springer kind of shit." Rachel states, "With or without you, that ship is going down like the freaking Titanic."

"How would you like it if I started fooling around with Owen behind your back?" Brooke demands, "Would that be okay, too?"

Rachel scoffs, "I can answer that in two parts: number one, you'd never do that to me," she lists off, "Number two, unlike Peyton, I actually keep Owen satisfied. Oh, and as a bonus number three, Owen and I actually like each other."

Brooke leans back against the lockers and runs her fingers through her hair anxiously. She really doesn't have a comeback to any of the redhead's very valid points.

"What do you want from me, Rache?"

Rachel shrugs, "Nothing, B." She sighs and wraps an arm around the brunette's shoulders. "Look, I got your back. No matter what. So how do you want this to play out? Do you really want to end it?" Whatever _it_ may be...

Brooke pouts her lips in thought, "When I figure it out, I'll let you know."

**-xx-**

The gym is quiet except for the sound of sneakers squeaking as the basketball team runs suicides up and down the court. Coach Whitey is running them hard, this year the Ravens are planning to take State undefeated.

But the boys aren't the only ones with a title to win this year. Over by the mats, the cheer squad is stretching out. They've got their own competitions to dominate. Brooke's finally captain now. She's worked her ass off for the position and she's pushed the girls to the limit to make them flawless. They're more than basketball and football groupies now, and they are gonna kill it at their State competition.

These shared practices are sometimes problematic. The girls work out in shorts and sports bras, which Whitey notices distracts his players from focusing on the court. But the boys play shirts vs. skins, and Brooke knows the squad does their fair share of ogling, too. It's often a stuggle to minimize the distractions.

"Peyton, you made it," Brooke offers a smile when she spots the curly-haired blonde walking in late.

Peyton grumbles "What else am I gonna do?" She picks a faraway corner and starts stretching so she can catch up with the rest of the girls.

Brooke takes a deep breath and decides to ignore the PMS attitude she's emanating right now. "Okay," she claps, getting everyone's attention. "Let's get it started, guys."

**-xx-**

_THUD!_

It is the twentieth time Peyton has fallen face-first onto the practice matt and everyone's getting frustrated. They've been at this for over an hour now.

"God! Why can't you idiots ever catch me? Newsflash: that's your whole job as bases - to freaking _catch me_!"

Frankie steps off, "Yo, talk to your girl, B. I'm getting tired of taking her shit. I want a new flyer. She's not landing the move and that's not on me."

"Yeah, Sawyer," pipes in a somewhat winded Rachel, "You're giving so much head to that matt that you might as well start dating it."

Peyton glares daggers at her, "Oh fuck off, Rachel." She hisses.

"Both of you cool it." Brooke steps between them, determined to keep the peace. "P. Sawyer, what's going on? You know this stuff. Just try it again, I know you can get this down."

"Why do you even care, Brooke? This crap is pointless!" The blonde shrieks loudly.

The squad watches intently, curious to see how the whole thing will play out. Even basketball practice halts to a stop in order to watch the show. Tim chuckles, "Dude, check it out, your girlfriend's gonna start a catfight!" He comments as he excitedly punches Nathan's shoulder.

"Seriously, aren't you embarrassed that the most important thing in your life is some pathetic cheer move? What difference does it make it if you sleep with the popular guy or you go to the right party or you know the moves to some moronic cheer I could care less about!"

Nathan shakes his head in disgust. This is so typical Peyton Sawyer bullshit. "Yeah, she's not my girlfriend right now." He mutters under his breath, "Trust me, I don't want any credit for that shitshow."

Brooke rolls her eyes, annoyed at the prolonged temper tantrum. "Peyton, you walk out now, and you're suspended from the squad for the next two weeks." The blonde has already tossed her pom-poms and kicked a few gym bags on her way to the door.

"Bite me, Brooke!" Peyton shrieks as she exits the gym.

Rachel was right. Peyton's been a world-class bitch for months now, treating the brunette like the dirt on the bottom of her shoe for no apparent reason. Brooke's put up with it because they've been friends for years and that buys her a pass, but her patience is wearing thin. She won't let Peyton disrespect her in front of her own squad.

"New layout, then," Brooke pushes on, undeterred by the spectacle. "Bevin, you're flying with Frankie now. We can rotate in a girl from JV if we need an extra body. Ashleigh, start the count again - let's take it from the top, guys!"

Rachel's grinning like the Cheshire cat when she leans in close to Brooke's ear, "Way to captain, Captain." She's never cared for Peyton and she's beyond thrilled that Brooke is done taking her crap, even if it's just in the gym - at least for now.

Brooke steals a glance at the court and she spots Nathan looking at her, trying to catch her attention. He furrows his brow in concern, silently asking if she's okay. She shrugs casually, as if to say "_business as usual_". And she's not sure if it's Peyton's pettiness or something else entirely, but when Nathan gives her the "_let's-hook-up-after-practice_" nod, she smiles and nods right back at him, throwing in a flirty wink too.

Whatever remorse she was feeling before is quickly starting to dissolve.

_Fuck it_.

The ever observant Rachel registers this exchange even as Lewis is tossing her five feet up in the air and she has to smile to herself. Looks like Brooke is finally starting to figure out just what it is that she wants.

* * *

**Whatcha think, dudes?**


	3. High Risk Behavior

**Disclaimer: I don't own shit.**

**The Kids Aren't Alright**

High Risk Behavior

* * *

_You were the song stuck in my head  
__Every song that I've ever loved  
__Played again &amp; again &amp; again  
__And you can get what you want  
__But it's never enough_

**-Fall Out Boy, "Favorite Records"**

* * *

"Alright," Nathan walks back into the bedroom holding a Domino's box and two bottles of Coke. He's shirtless, his Nike basketball shorts are hanging low on his hips, and _damn_ he looks good right now.

"Food first, then round...what're we on now?" Nathan smirks.

Brooke is sitting up naked, her weight resting on her elbows and the sheets bunched around her waist. She flashes him one of her dimpled smiles and a surge of electricity runs through his body - Fuck, she looks good in his bed. The only reason she'd managed to talk him into getting the grub was by telling him that she'd have to put on clothes to get it herself.

Summer had been awesome. Being with Brooke was easy - she wasn't clingy, there was no unnecessary drama, they always had fun, and the sex was pretty fucking mind-blowing. On the other hand, Peyton hadn't even been back a day before she started losing her shit.

Brooke lets out a sultry laugh, "Fine," she grabs a slice and digs in, "But after that I gotta go. It's getting late."

"What's the rush?" Nathan plants wet kisses along her collarbone, he's only hungry for one thing right now and it's definitely not the pizza. "I'm pretty sure I haven't tired you out yet." He whispers in her ear before sucking on her pulse point.

Brooke moans, throwing her head back to give him better access. The boy works wonders with that mouth of his. It takes most of her willpower pull him off. "I haven't even showered yet." They'd come over straight from practice. Despite the physical strain of the afternoon workout, they'd both been horny as all fuck. They barely made it to his car before they got naked.

"But don't worry, we have an hour until Rache picks me up."

Nathan tosses the pizza box aside and moves on top of her. "Take that to-go, then." His lips crash against hers, his hands tangled in her hair - she feels so good against him. No matter how much he gets, it's never enough.

Brooke grabs his ass and grinds up against him. She is naked and he is not, so she hooks her thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and tugs them down. He pulls a condom from nowhere and grips her hips as he sinks down into her.

"Fuck. _Nate_." Her lips are on his neck and then her tongue in his ear and he doesn't think it's possible for him to want her more than he does right now.

The hour passes by in a blur of sweat and sex, and then Rachel's honking outside. Nate considers telling Brooke to just stay over for the night. Dan left this morning to join Deb for some small businesses conference in Charlotte. They can have the house to themselves and start the day off with a bang tomorrow. But he quickly realizes that that's not how they operate and she'd probably laugh in his face at the suggestion. Besides, the last thing he needs is Clay walking in on them tomorrow morning.

So he watches her get dressed, kinda like a striptease in reverse, and laughs when she can't find her bra, and then falls asleep feeling pretty fucking satisfied - the kind of satisfaction that only comes after having Brooke.

Yeah. This year is gonna be awesome.

**-xx-**

Rachel is riding shotgun in Owen's truck, her bare feet propped up against the dashboard as she hums along to the beat of the Beyoncé song blasting through the speakers. She needs to have a talk with Brooke and tell her that she is not her damn chauffeur. If the stubborn brunette insists on keeping up with her little clandestine hook-ups with Scott, then she needs to plan to bring her car with her.

Owen yawns, stretching his arms out, "Whose house is this anyways, brujita? Little B. finally got herself a boyfriend or somethin'?"

"You know we don't do boyfriends, Owen." The QB rolls his eyes at the clarification, but doesn't say anything. He's happy letting the redhead be, at least for now. "This is just one of Brooke's favorite mistakes."

Owen smirks knowingly, "I take it you don't like this dude, then," he comments, his hand drawing circles on the bare skin of her thighs.

"This_ dude_ can go fuck himself," Rachel goes back to filing her nails. "He's just such an arrogant asshole."

Owen shrugs and flashes what she's termed as his 'shit-eating grin'. "You used to say that about me."

True, they hadn't really been able to stand each other in the beginning. That, however, didn't stop them from screwing each other senseless all around Durham and Tree Hill. The fact is, Rachel isn't quite sure when the flip was switched and she started to actually _like_ having the quarterback around. By then she just _wanted_ to keep on going out with him, crashing at the Sig house, rolling around town with Brooke riding in the back of his truck. But want is not need, and the redhead is very aware of the distinction - she doesn't _need_ anyone; never has, never will.

So instead of arguing with him, Rachel leans over and pulls him closer by his t-shirt, "At least we can have fun while we're waiting," she whispers huskily before planting her lips against his in a lusty kiss. She's about to propose they move this party to the backseat when the tiny brunette jumps in the car.

"Put some ice it, whore. I'm here." Brooke announces, leaning in between the seats to peck Owen's cheek. "Hey, O." She greets him with her best dimpled smile.

Owen grins warmly at her in the rear view mirror, "Where to, B.? Back to the Rache-cave?"

Rachel grumpily settles back down in her chair and Owen reaches for her hand, bringing it up to his lips and winking at her with a languid grin. The small gesture brings a genuine smile to the redhead's face, and it's only with Owen that she allows herself to indulge in this kind of sappy shit.

"Nah," Brooke says, not wanting to crash on their night together. She knows they don't mind. Usually they go do their thing for a while and then they join her down in the living room or in the kitchen. When Owen crashes, Brooke just sleeps in one of the many empty guest-rooms.

Owen and Rachel are good at never making her feel like a third wheel. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't give them their alone time.

"You can just drop me off at mine's tonight, O."

Rachel turns to look at her, "You sure, bitch? You know you're more than welcome to crash - mi casa is your casa."

Owen backs his girl's words with a nod as he drives out of the block.

"Which is why I'll probably be sleeping there again tomorrow night." Brooke shoots back with a reassuring smile, "I'm good on my own for tonight. You guys have fun."

**-xx-**

It's lunchtime and Clay sits on one of the quad's picnic tables, his sneakers propped up against the bench. The table is rounded out by guys from the football team, chattering amongst themselves, attempting to memorize routes and plays before the afternoon practice. But Clay isn't really paying attention to any of that. He's always 100% on point, so he already knows this shit backwards and forwards.

Nah, he's focused on what's going on in the table across from his. Rachel and Brooke are holding court with the rest of the cheerleaders. It seems that Peyton has toned the shit down a bit because she is once again in the inner circle instead of hiding out in her little car like some kind of fucking hermit.

Nathan sits in between the blonde and the brunette, and the ridiculousness of the situations makes Clay snicker. He knows for a fact that Peyton's been circling Nathan, kissing his ass and trying to "make up". He also knows that Nathan's been dodging her efforts.

How does his best friend not know that this shit is gonna backfire on him sooner rather than later? It's then that he notices Nathan's hand inching its way up Brooke's thigh.

Damn, the fucker has balls!

How does he even dare to try to pull that shit off with Peyton sitting right there? Equally impressive is the fact that the brunette maintains a total poker face throughout the whole thing.

Clay glances at the time on his phone and starts counting back from 10 in his head.

_10...9...8..._

Nathan's hand has completely disappeared under the brunette's skirt.

_7...6...5..._

Brooke's hand slides down to grab his wrist. She says some BS excuse and heads off towards the parking lot.

_4...3...2..._

Nathan follows suit, shouldering his backpack and heading off towards the parking lot, too.

_1._

Couldn't even make it 10 seconds before running after Brooke Davis' ass - though he doesn't really blame him, it is a _damn_ fine ass. Clay guesses that Nathan will have the brunette on her back in his car within the next five minutes. They're both being so fucking obvious about this that it's a miracle no one else has noticed them yet.

It's then that Clay realizes he's not the only one who's been paying attention the whole exchange: Rachel Gatina is fixing him with an deathly glare - brow burrowed, eyes smoldering, contemptuous sneer. It'd be enough to make any other guy crap himself. The redhead's reputation as a ball-buster is well deserved and hard earned. But Clay just arches his eyebrows and tilts his Coke bottle towards her before taking a long pull.

His lopsided grin sends a clear message - _Yeah. I know. What're you gonna do about it?_

Before Rachel can react by flipping him off or worse, Bevin tugs at her arm, bringing her back to whatever they're discussing over there.

Clay smirks triumphantly and then a football beans him in the back of his head.

"Earth to Twister, dude! What the fuck, man?"

He whirls around, "The fuck's up with _you_, Beaver!" He scoffs, landing a perfect spiral against the offensive tackle's forehead. "What'd you do that for?"

"We're runnin' plays, man - get your head in it. Stop makin' eyes at Rachel Gatina. It ain't gonna happen, bro."

Clay smirks, "You're forgetting I've been there and done that, Beav." He says, stealing another glance at the redhead. "Don't worry about my shit, I always know the way of the game." There's something wolfish about his grin, "_Always_."

It was freshman year, at one of Tucker Moore's infamous lake house parties that a drunken Clay had slept with Rachel Gatina. He had been a virgin, she had not - shit got complicated after that. No one ever really talked about it anymore. But after that, Clay had a firm no-repeat policy when it came to his hook-ups: he never fucked the same girl twice.

Once upon a time, Rachel had had a similar policy as well - and then Owen Morello came along.

**-xx-**

"Hey, when are you making up with Peyton again?" Brooke asks while she buttons up her shirt.

They're getting dressed in the backseat of Nathan's truck, and if they're both gonna be late if they don't get a move on. Luckily they've gotten pretty good as this routine.

Nathan's still scavenging under the seats for his underwear, "Not sure yet. Why, what'd you have in mind?"

"It's long weekend and there's a party at Duke. Rache and I are going." Brooke pulls his boxers from under her bag and tosses them over to him. "Wanna come with? We can go in your truck, crash at the house."

Nathan furrows his brow, "What, so you need wheels and a driver?" He asks as he slips into his jeans. "What's in it for me?"

"Free booze, a weekend away," Brooke lists off as she inches closer to him and he leans back, letting her settle on top of him. Her warm breath tickles his ear when she whispers: "And who knows what else, if you're _good_..." Her breasts pressing against his chest and his hands slide down to her ass - damn, she can be convincing. "C'mon, you _know_ you wanna say yes."

Nathan smirks. "Fine. I'm in. Pick you up at Rae's?" He ventures a guess, knowing that that's where Brooke hides whenever Victoria Davis arrives back into town early.

Brooke nods and jumps out of the backseat, lifting her skirt to give him a peek of her ass. "Don't be late, Scott." She says before skipping away.

He pulls his t-shirt over his head and grabs his crap. Suddenly the weekend isn't looking so bad anymore. If nothing else, this little road trip spares him having to play the all-american son at Dan's annual Labor's day weekend barbecue.

Besides a weekend spent on top of Brooke Davis sounds pretty fucking good right about now.

**-xx-**

Nathan spots Clay sitting on the porch-swing, squinting down at some old paperback and chewing on a pen cap. The blonde is so focused on his reading that he doesn't notice his friend's presence until he plops down next to him. "You look like such a fucking egghead right now."

"Fuck off." Clay doesn't look up as he scribbles down something in the margins before sliding the book into his pocket. "You're one calculator away from becoming mathlete."

Nathan punches his shoulder. "And yet it's thanks to me that you're not flunking calc class." He tosses a finished problem set on his lap and leans back, linking his fingers together and cradling the back his head in his palms.

"Speaking off, here you go," Clay pulls a folder from his backpack and hands it over to Nathan. "Your Faulkner essay. Don't worry, I misspelled a couple of words this time. Gotta make it believable that you could pull it off, right?"

This has been their arrangement since they were freshman. Nathan has a head for math: numbers, percentages, equations - he always finds a way to work out an answer. Clay, in turn, always has his head buried in a book; goes through two or three a week. It seemed only natural that they helped each other out from time to time. After all, neither of them wants to be benched thanks to the no-pass, no-play rule their coaches seem so fond of enforcing.

"C'mon, let's get some grub." Nathan stands up, stretching his arms over his head. "Practice left me fucking hungry."

Clay follows him into the house and they go about raiding the fridge for stuff to make a sandwich with.

"Thank god I did the shopping early today." Clay's mom walks into the kitchen wearing her nursing scrubs. She kisses both boys' cheeks and grabs her lunch. "Your parents still out of town, Nathan?"

Nathan nods, "Yes, ma'am," he says. "They won't be back for a couple of days."

"You'll come over for dinner, then." She says - a statement, not a question. "I'm working nights this week, but I left meatloaf and potatoes in the oven."

Nathan places a hand on his chest, "Oh, I don't wanna impose, Mrs. E." He flashes her his best 'I'm-a-good-boy' smile.

"Hush, Nathan. You're family, and you're always welcome here - _you know that_." That smug little smile of his doesn't fool her for a second, but she knows he's a good kid, deep down. "You boys behave now."

The truth is Nathan loves Clay's mom. She's everything his parents aren't - responsible, hardworking, kind. She's older than Deb, but so are most moms in town seeing as none of them got knocked up at eighteen. He knows full well that anyone else would've cut their friendship off years ago, clearly realizing that Nathan is what parents had in mind when they coined the phrase "bad influence". But Carolyn Evans never once saw it that way. All she ever saw was what a good influence her son could be on the Scott boy, how badly he needed family. So she always welcomed him into her house with open arms.

"I love your mom's cooking, man."

Clay smirks, "And I love your mom, specially when she's walking around your pool in that little black bikini of hers..." He laughs, catching the apple that his raven-haired friend aims at his head. "Chill, I'm just fucking with you." He bites into the apple and settles down on a stool, "We got anything going on this weekend?"

"I'm not gonna be around." Nathan mutters, "I'm hitting a party in Durham."

It doesn't take long for Clay to put the whole thing together. He shakes his head, "What's your endgame there, Nate?" He asks with genuine curiosity. "'Cause you can't ride two horses with one ass, and I just cannot see this ending well for anyone - especially you."

"I'm just having some fun, man," Nathan raises and drops his shoulders with a practiced ease. "It's gonna be fine. I got a handle on it."

And the thing that truly worries Clay is that he can tell Nathan actually believes that's the truth.

**-xx-**

The clearing is lined with tiki torches and there are a couple of SUVs parked around with the headlights on. The main attraction, however, are the large bonfires spread out all over the clearing. A OneRepublic song is blasting from the DJ table where a dude is spinning some kickass beats.

Brooke and Rachel stroll in with their natural air of self-confidence. Most people here know them already. In the year that Owen and Rachel have been hooking up, both girls had become a regular fixture around Durham and the Sigma Chi house. But Nathan is new to this and he's enthralled by everything around him.

Rachel nudges Brooke, "C'mon, I see O. Let's go tell him we're here."

Brooke goes with the redhead's lead and looks back at him. "You coming or what?"

Nathan follows them without saying a word. Even with the place as packed as it is, it's easy to spot Owen and his crew. There are maybe a dozen of them: big-shouldered guys in t-shirts, bermuda shorts and backward baseball caps, all rocking their House colors and letters. They are pounding back beers and exchanging high-fives, a few of them have girls with them. Nathan grins like a little kid as he looks around - this, he hopes, is gonna be his life someday.

"Hey, babe," Rachel stands on her tiptoes and barely reaches the QB's chin so he leans down to kiss her.

Owen smiles, "You made it," one arm loops around the redhead's waist comfortably and the pulls Brooke into a half-hug. "'Sup, Brookie. Who's the boy toy?"

Brooke giggles, "This is Nathan." She says, "He's kicking it with us this weekend."

Nathan shakes the hand that Owen's stretched out to him. "Hey, man, I hope it's cool I crashed the party." Technically, he's never officially met Owen before. Sure, he'd seen him around Tree Hill with Rachel, but they'd never spoken. He'd heard plenty about him, though. Clay idolized the quarterback and his football team in the same way Nathan idolized their basketball team.

"Ah, if you're cool with the girls, you're cool with me," Owen says with a shrug. He nudges one of his boys, "Lip, show him where he can get a beer, will ya?" Then he pats Nathan's shoulder in a friendly manner, "Have fun, kid."

Nathan follows Lip towards the kegs and drinks up. He's not sure why these guys are throwing a party in the middle of the freaking woods, but fuck it. There's booze and plenty of hot sorority chicks running around, though he's got his eye on Brooke for the night. The brunette had told him he could crash Owen's frat house and he's hoping she'll jump into bed with him after this. So he sticks by the Brooke and Rachel, and plays it cool, trying to not to make an ass of himself in front of Owen's crew. Duke is his dream school, his ticket out of Tree Hill and out from under Dan.

"Guys, uh, guys," the DJ cuts the music abruptly. "Bear just called. He said he saw three cop cars headed this way on Erwin Road."

The announcement sets off a quick chain-response - everyone switches to '_get-the-fuck-out-mode_' in seconds.

"Hey, let's roll." Owen reaches for Rachel's hand, "You ridin' with us, B.?"

Brooke looks at Nathan. He's already fumbling his pockets for his keys and he actually looks nervous, like he's suddenly aware that he is not in Tree Hill anymore and that the cops in Durham aren't gonna cut him any slack. "No, I'm riding with Nate. We'll meet ya back at the house, 'kay?"

Owen gives Nathan a once-over and fixes him with a stern look. It seems to say 'you better look out for her' and it matches the threat in Rachel's glare, which says 'I will hurt you if anything happens to her'. So Nathan nods, "I got this." He places a hand on the small of the brunette's back and they head off towards his car.

"Yo, we need a ride!" Two guys call out as they run towards them.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Nathan replies, already sitting behind the wheel. "Hop in the back, bro."

The flashing sirens appear in the distance. Brooke grimaces, "We are so screwed."

The adrenaline coursing through Nathan's body seems to cancel out his nerves as he pushes the gas pedal all the way down and they speed off through the woods. "No sweat." He smirks, "I got this."

Brooke glances over her shoulder and she can still see the lights. "I think we gotta pull over."

"Oh, you wanna stop?" The guy with blonde hair sneers in the backseat. "That'll impress Duke."

"Don't be an dick, Reid." His friend elbows him in the ribs.

"Dammit, Tyler!" Reid winces.

"Can you lose 'em?" Tyler asks, laying a hand on Nathan's shoulder.

Nathan's eyes are fixed on the dirt road, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. "Gimme a minute." He mutters, and that's when he spots an opening between a couple of trees. He makes a sharp turn and kills the lights and engine. They all breath heavily, laying down in wait to see if the cops pass by and miss them.

The minutes stretch on like hours and then Brooke's phone vibrates in her cleavage. A text from Rachel.

_coast clear. cops got called to bust a different party. where r u?_

Brooke smiles wider and wider until she bursts into a fit of full-blown laughter. Nathan stares at her for a beat before he follows suit, laughing right along with her. The guys in the back join in too and then they're all red-faced, heads thrown back, still laughing and amazed at the fact that they actually pulled this off.

"WHOO!" Reid howls at the top of his lungs.

They all join him, screaming wildly into the night. Nathan's hands slam against the steering wheel repeatedly and when he looks over at Brooke again, the glint in her hazel eyes proves that his ballsy escape accomplished his mission: she will most definitely be warming his bed tonight.


End file.
